


Tenacious and Unyielding

by TaraRhyme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Boss Tom Riddle, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Harry doesn't know what he wants, Harry is a Tease, Idiots in Love, M/M, Obsessive Harry Potter, Obsessive Tom Riddle, Office Bee Harry, Office Sex, Possessive Tom Riddle, Secret Relationship, Tom is a Sweetheart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29657436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraRhyme/pseuds/TaraRhyme
Summary: “You want to know what I think?” Riddle says, head dipping lower as he tries to get level with my eyes. “I think that if the universe were trying to keep us apart, it’s doing a shitty job. Because otherwise, we wouldn’t be out here together.”“I wish we weren’t!”“No, you don’t,” he says firmly.“Yes, I do. I wish I’d never come outside. I wish I didn’t ever meet you at all, and I wish—”Without warning, his mouth is on mine. He kisses me roughly. Completely unyielding. His hands are on the back of my head, holding me in place. And for a long, suspended moment, I’m frozen, unsure of whether I want to push him away. Then, all at once, heat spreads through me, and I thaw.I kiss him back.And, oh, it is good.Bless this man's tenacity.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	Tenacious and Unyielding

**"Love feeds on deception- whether that a deception we've borne and fed to another. . . or eaten ourselves. Like idiots."**

Every day for a week, sitting in my idling car, taking deep, useless breaths- and thinking about the touch of his hand, his forehead pressed to mine, the way he brushed my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear.

And still, he hadn’t came to me again.

Not once.

Nothing but that perfect encounter in the meeting room seven, nearly a week ago today. He was all I could think about- I was beginning to go a little crazy.

There were many people who would say Harry Potter was already quite crazy, as it stands, but most of those people peaked in his high school.

Except the _bane of his existence_ , Draco Malfoy, who was currently trying to catch his eye by kneeling on his desk and peering over into Harry's cubicle.

"I know you can see me," he said. "Potter we've worked here for nearly three months, and-"

"Every Wednesday," Harry tiredly agreed.

"Good boy!" the blond clambered back off his desk, saying, "Don't forget to wear the blazer- he likes the blazer!"

Harry made a derisive sound. He couldn't care less what Lucius Malfoy liked. He was worse than his brother, honest. Harry had the dubious honour of dining with Draco every week, without fail, and this week's special guests was just the one: his older brother, a financial analyst who didn't really need the job.

Draco and Lucius' father thought the boys needed to learn some independence, hence the whole 'working' aspect. The reason for Harry's commitment to his childhood arch-nemesis on Wednesdays was a far more complicated situation... and nonetheless it trapped him in a weekly social call.

Once it seemed that Draco would not be returning over the wall of his cubicle, Harry returned to his circling thoughts.

The centre being Tom Riddle.

He remembered meeting Tom for the first time. Not in that stuffy board room two weeks ago, when he announced his new position as Department Head with a polite but vacant smile, but that same afternoon in the lift to the carpark...

* * *

Tom Riddle was all angles. He could barely be out of his thirties- Harry refused the thought, as that put him in shortly 'father' territory.

And no matter his age, he was still the quintessential bad boy- charming, at ease in his skin, and classically handsome, with deep blue eyes, slicked-back brown hair, and the kind of full, sensuous mouth that bad boys seemed to have an unfair market on.

Harry was going to enjoy Department meetings from now on, as rare as they were.

When he got the lift to the carpark, he was ambushed on the fifth floor by Tom Riddle, who seemed to also be going to the carpark.

The very first thing that Tom Riddle ever said directly to him was: "Forgive me," he sounded lightly amused. "But waiting to make love to you... it is... _straining_ my nerves."

Harry scoffed but he was quite shaken; Tom could see it in his expression, in the way he nervously toyed with the buttons on his white collar up. 

"How awfully presumptuous of you to think we'd- that I'd _let_ you." He blurted, although he'd devoted a lot of time already to fantasising some steamy situations. One of them may have involved the very elevator they were standing in.

"You will," he insisted soothingly.

He gaped at him, trying to snap out of whatever inane daydream this was. The man was a complete stranger!

"Please continue," Tom Riddle urged. "I'm _aching_ to hear the rest."

"You're arrogant, aren't you?" Harry snapped.

"I saw you in the board room," Tom Riddle began slyly. "Biting your lip, eyes wide... I saw how you were so eager for me. You, boy... you really need a man, don't you?"

"I absolutely do not," Harry asserted, embarrassed by being caught _and_ called out on it.

He grinned. "You are aroused by my arrogance almost as much as I am charmed by your impudence."

"That's absurd."

"I want you," he softly, quickly replied, catching Harry off guard with such tenderness. "Process that before I decide I'm finished with this conversation, rip off your clothes, and show you how much."

I am watching his every move. I can see where this is going. I am motionless like the cheese before the mouse strikes. The deer before the headlights hit. The mouth before the lips kiss. He has me up on that butcher block and splayed like a slab of meat before I know what hits me.

But as the lift let out he did no more than walk with me to my car.

"Safety in numbers," he purred. Like that wasn't wildly suspicious. Harry had begun to feel a little concerned for his safety.

But Harry didn't immediately unlock his car, and Tom Riddle didn't walk away.

"What's your name?" 

"Harry," he said quickly. "And you're Tom Riddle." 

"Just Tom is fine," he said with a step closer. Harry didn't move- he couldn't, he was with his back to his car.

Tom paused, letting the tension mount. His solemn gaze met mine. "How long are you going to make me wait?"  
  
I considered making a joke. Blowing the whole thing off like nothing had happened. But already I felt the levity of us.

"I don't know."  
  
He stared at me for a few moments. Behind his eyes I could see the wheels turning. Weighing the options and eventualities. Finally, he breathed out through his nose, like expelling great frustration. "Well, I guess that's better than 'never'.”

The next time he saw Tom Riddle, or _just Tom_ , was in his break room. Which is odder than it sounds because Tom Riddle had a perfectly serviceable coffee machine in his office. It was after lunch hour, there were no doughnuts left to be had here either.

And oddest of all, he was talking to Ron, who is Harry's best mate and doesn't work here.

"Harry," Tom greeted warmly. "We were just talking about you?"

"Really," he said warily, giving Ron a frosty look. "I'd think Hermione's still waiting to see you, mate."

"You're right," Ron said easily. "But the point still stands Tom," he said to the man next to him, "you and Harry would fit together like a puzzle."

And on his way out he gave Harry nothing but a nudge on the shoulder, like the meddling prat he was.

Harry furiously made himself coffee, ignoring the large presence of Tom in the room.

"Are you bothered because he says he could see us together? Or is there someone- something else?” Tom said quietly from behind him. They were completely alone now.  
  
His voice had grown almost unsure with last question. Harry looked up from the his coffee to see something he'd never thought he'd see from the man. An expression that, on anyone else, would've been more than curious. It was open, vulnerable. A naked longing that disappeared as soon as Harry was sure he knew what it was, to be replaced by Tom pressing his lips together and looking down at the board again.  
  
Wow. Okay. That made this conversation a hell of a lot more interesting. Maybe Tom was so forward because he really wanted to know if he had a chance, _maybe he actually wants Harry_. The man in question wasn't sure how he felt about that.  
  
“I'm not in love with the idea that you guys have talked about me,” Harry said. “It's strange. Invasive.” He settled down at the table with his piping hot cup. Tom sat across from him.  
  
“I'm sorry our conversation made you feel that way,” Tom said. “I honestly wouldn't have said anything if you didn't want anyone thinking about it.”  
  
“I know I'm being weird,” Harry responded. “About... us.” Harry looked up in time to see Tom's expression change before the mask slid back into place. “You don't think it's weird?”  
  
Tom's lips trembled as he fought down a smile. “I think,” he began, reaching across the table, “life is full of possibilities.” He touched the back of Harry's hand with the tips of his fingers, gently stroking the skin. “If this isn't one you want to take advantage of, then you shouldn't feel pressured to do so. But I don't care for what should or shouldn't be done. I think you should heed the advice of your ginger friend, Harry.”

Tom left without any further breaches of personal space.

* * *

"Should I stop?” he said.

I heard voices from far away and he stopped his ministrations below my waistline.

We had met again, the very next day after the break room talk, just passing each other in the hall. Tom had grabbed me by the arm, with a wild look in his eye, and said, "Would you like to do something dangerous?"

Harry was idiot. Harry said yes. They were in meeting room number seven, the windows shuttered, and the comm off. He wasn't sure if the door was locked, too preoccupied with Tom's wandering hands.

“Please,” I said, “please don’t stop.”

“Oh, so I shouldn’t?” he said and chuckled. “That would be cruel of me, wouldn’t it?”

I felt such a strong want, that it burnt me, even as his fingers gripped my wrist so tight I thought it would break. I'd never known that just holding someone could hurt so much.

“Yes,” I said and stared into his eyes, “and you’re not cruel, are you?”

He bit the side of my neck and traced my earlobe as he breathed heavily into my ear.

“I am the cruelest man you will ever meet, Harry,” he said into my ear, “but, I will make you feel so good, you will not care.”

I stared into Tom’s eyes and knew that he told the truth. And just like he said, I did not care.

His fingers went back to work and I felt as if I were drowning in the tumultuous sea- but it was Tom, he was the sea, and he was swallowing me and I couldn't help but let him take me. It did not matter that I was drowning or in the company of the cruelest man in the world. I only cared how he made me feel and, at that moment, I never felt better.

* * *

One week later and Harry was already addicted. They hadn't even had sex!

He was screwed.

Maybe the utter misery of the coming dinner would be so achingly droll that Tom would be forcibly driven from my mind.

I didn't know that it would end up being all about Tom, in the end. I wouldn't have gone at all, Draco's ire be damned, if I had known what would happen simply because of some kisses and very strong Long Island Ice Teas.

* * *

"Harry," Draco said with an appreciate smile. "The blazer, fabulous."

Lucius Malfoy was exactly the kind of man that Harry hated and was attracted to. The very worst sort of sexy arrogance but not a man of bravado... and as Draco began to drift away from the table and towards some girls at the bar, Harry became rather intelligent for a moment.

"Oh," he said. "You're, um, Draco set us up, didn't he?"

Lucius Malfoy turned a keen eye on him. "I don't mind," he said smoothly. Harry didn't say anything at all, but something vague about a man named Tom ran through his mind. "Another drink?"

"I mean I don't need it, but it certainly wouldn't hurt." They were getting on well, Harry thought. The man was a bit stilted in conversation, but that seemed to be a trait of the Malfoy family- snottiness and formality.

It did not stop Lucius Malfoy from kissing him when they went for some air.

"I couldn't in front of my brother," he said, almost laughing. "I just couldn't- he would be so smug, don't you see?" Harry laughed too, because Draco would be very proud of himself indeed. He was always very meddlesome.

"No, I get it, really."

"I'll get our coats," Lucius hedged.

"Sure," Harry said agreeably. Technically he was a bit buzzed, and so excuse him for not immediately understanding the not-so-hidden meaning of that.

"We'll escape before Draco knows it," he called back as he went inside. Harry smiled to himself, warm from his drinks and feeling pleasant.

He took to watching the street, and the locales on the opposite side.

A girl with impossibly long legs stood outside of a very hip-looking place, a man's arm around her waist.

She waved down a cab, which had appeared with perfect timing, turning to hold the man close for a moment, and pressed her lips to his cheek for a long moment. Their bodies seemed to become one, and then she was ducking into the cab and suddenly Harry recognised the man, who was now staring at him.

Tom, who was striding across the empty street to meet him.

Harry blinked just once and the man was in front of him- maybe it was a long blink, he was suddenly feeling woozy, and his chest hurt.

What were you doing with her?” The words burst from my lips. Before I can take them back, he stares at me.

I stare back at him as the silence stretches onwards.

We’re both stiff. He says nothing.

“Maybe I should ask you the same thing.”

I shake my head, my nails digging into my palms. This entire conversation was absurd, it shouldn't be happening.

"A week of nothing and you've moved right on," I sniped.

Then before I can react, he has pushed me roughly up the wall, his eyes now dark and fiery, like a storm ready to unleash itself. Good. He’s mad too- wait, I'm mad? His hands force me to the wall of the brick bar and grill, and he presses his body against mine. The intensity of the move, the feel of him makes my breath hitch.

“Get off me,” I seethe, pounding my fists into his chest but Tom keeps me locked in place, so that his breath caresses my ear. I _was_ mad. We weren't something, not really, but we definitely weren't nothing-- he halfway defiled me in the office for Christ's sake--

“Were you guys too rushed?" He mocks. “Too desperate to book a hotel room?”

I can barely stifle a disgusted snort. “What are you talking about?” Fury pumps through my head. “The- _Lucius?_ We were- we _kissed!_ Barely! You saw that? I'm drunk, I- a hotel room? What kind of person do you think I am—mmmmf?!”

He moves against me, moving to kiss me. The moment where his lips meet mine hard and unyielding. He tastes of smoke and sweet lipgloss—and I’m reminded of the scene earlier where he and that very fit girl were pressed close, foreheads touching, utterly romantic. Disgust fills me as I squirm in his arms.

He groans, fire burning in his voice. “You want me, you’re trying to hide from it- you want this.”

“No,” I try to bite the words at him but it comes out strangled. I was _hurt_ , and I had no right to be.

I try to push him away but before I have to, he releases me.

I try to put as much distance between him and myself, shaking.

 _Loathing_ is my voice. "Get away from me. I- I _hate you_."

He swallows and looks away, his breathing slowing. He pushes himself from the wall, still very pale.

Then closing his eyes and turning, he starts walking away, heading towards the parking lot.

"I would never want you!" I scream behind him.

Riddle stops for a moment, his back to me. “I’ve thought you made that clear from the beginning, doe eyes. At least I got a taste.” It sounded smug, but fell flat.

He keeps on walking, never glancing back.

That man was rude, crude, and inappropriate. I was taken with him the moment he walked in the door, and I knew the first moment I saw him that it was going to be raw, it was going to be ugly, and I was going to enjoy suffering every damn minute of it.

This wasn't over, Harry thought furiously. He himself wasn't even quite sure what he meant.

**"Everything in the world is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power."- Oscar Wilde**


End file.
